


take me home

by dollylux



Category: Eyewitness (US TV) RPF
Genre: Barebacking, Clothed Sex, Established Relationship, Intimacy, M/M, Misuse Of Ed Sheeran Songs, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reunion Sex, Slight feminization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 16:38:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9245096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/pseuds/dollylux
Summary: Tyler finally, finally, finally comes home. Finally.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [riyku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/riyku/gifts).



> For my dear, precious, beautiful friend KC. I love you. This is a tenth of the hug I want to give you<3

He’d thought about this for weeks.

Daydreamed about how it would happen, what time of day it would be. If he’d be showered or dirty. What song would be on, if any. If he could still taste the last thing he’d eaten, and if they would actually be alone when it happened, in that very first second.

Dozens of scenarios kept him company over the weeks, the eternity between the last touch and the next one. But the variables made it nearly impossible to predict, and he’d been wrong about nearly everything.

The way it goes down, in the end, is like this:

He’s alone in the apartment, except Bob and Chase sleeping on their mats in the livingroom. He’s unshowered and shirtless, teeth brushed but he’s eating leftover Mexican on a paper plate, licking spice from his lips as he scrolls endlessly through Instagram, liking pictures and comments with dull eyes and idle presses of his thumb. One of the new Ed Sheeran songs, of all fucking things, is playing on the speakers in the livingroom.

It’s late afternoon, the dreamcolor time of day, and Tyler hasn’t texted him back.

It’s fine. He knows it’s fine. Normal, even. Lots of things to do when you get back into town for the first time in weeks. Lots to unpack and errands to run and airplane grime to wash off and lattes to drink and maybe his phone’s dead or something. Maybe he’s sleeping. Maybe Tyler has a mental list of things to do today, and texting James back just isn’t very high on that list.

Like a movie, there’s a knock on the door.

James’s head pops up just like the dogs’ do, and he looks to them in a panic, for answers. They haul themselves up and skitter towards the door and so James does the same, dragging a hand through his hair and ignoring the way his heart beats against his ribs because there are more important things to worry about now.

He hesitates with his fingers just touching the doorknob, his eyes falling closed for a fraction of a second as the realist in him requires him to prepare for the eventuality that this _isn’t_ Tyler. He forces his heart to break with the thought, forces himself to accept it before he even knows the truth.

It’s easier that way. Another thing he’s learned over the last few weeks.

He opens the door before he opens his eyes, and apparently Tyler catches him at it, because he’s smiling by the time James sees him.

“Sleepwalking again?” Tyler teases, hands in his pockets, shoulders pulled in and down, like he’s shy. Unsure, here. James just stares at him, the reality of _Tyler_ flooding him all at once, stitching his heart back together and righting all the wrong wrong wrong since the last time they’d seen each other.

James opens his mouth to reply, to give him shit right back, to make this easier than it’s turning out to be, but nothing comes out. His throat closes up around words and his eyes burn, hot and sudden, lashes fluttering but refusing to close, not even to blink. Not again. Not when he could be looking at _him_. He’s not taking that for granted ever again.

“Hey,” Tyler says, soft this time, edged with concern as he steps into the apartment and into James’s space. He smells like the inside of his car and like faded cologne, and James worries for no reason that Tyler smells different now. up close. That he smells like Chicago, that it won’t be the same, when he touches him again. That nothing will be the same now, after so much time apart. That nothing will feel like it did.

“ _James_ ,” Tyler tries again, real worry now. “Hey, are you okay? You aren’t sick, are you?”

Tyler reaches out in a move of absolute innocence and touches James’s hand that is inexplicably lifted and halfway to reaching Tyler, and the barely-there press of fingertips along James’s knuckles has him gasping, tears stinging his eyes and heat flooding his face and he alive again suddenly, _present_ , a real boy again now that the sun of his cobbled-together universe is back, is home.

Tyler’s home.

He snatches Tyler away from the air that isn’t close enough to him, from the whole fucking world, and pulls him close, wrapping his arms around him so tight that Tyler grunts, huffs out a surprised squeak. He curls down and buries his nose into Tyler’s neck, breathing him in frantically, seeking out new smells and old smells alike, wanting them all to become familiar to him right now.

He swears he can smell snow on him, the clean white of cold on such a warm boy, and he doesn’t realize he’s crying, that he’s making gasped-out, pitiful puppy whimpers of sound until Tyler is dragging him up and clutching his face, searching his eyes with the biggest brown ones James has ever, ever seen.

“Say something,” Tyler begs, brought down to the thin, shaky desperation where James has been living for what feels like forever now, and the air between them is damp with it, shivering with kisses that aren’t born, not yet. “Please. Fuck. Just let me hear your voice. Just let me--”

James kisses him, drinks the words down, forcing his tongue into Tyler’s mouth and groaning when it’s sucked on like Tyler’s trying to swallow it. His hands scramble unseeing and wanting too much, gripping at Tyler through clothes, yanking at them to try and get to the skin underneath, and he wants so much right now in this single fucking second that he can’t do anything but sob right into Tyler’s mouth, hands twisting up his shirt into fists and clutching at him.

The dogs are yipping and jumping around their legs and Ed Sheeran is still singing and the sun is setting and the door’s unlocked but James doesn’t notice any of it, neither of them do. He lifts Tyler up like he weighs nothing, gets his hands on those skinny thighs and helps them around his waist as he stumbles blindly toward the couch.

He drops Tyler onto it and shoves pillows onto the floor to give them more room, two long boys who need all the room they can get for this.

They yank at Tyler’s jacket together and James throws it over his shoulder, annoyed beyond all reason when the song starts over again. The dogs have retreated to their beds and are watching them with passive interest, and James gets his knees under him so he can lift up and not yell right in Tyler’s ear.

“Alexa, turn this shit off and play my Tyler playlist.”

He turns his attention back to Tyler and finds him grinning up at him, those long, warm hands of his sliding down James’s back to grip at his ass in his loose sweatpants as James drops down into the perfect space between Tyler’s spread legs.

“Oh, I’ve got my own playlist?” Tyler asks, grinning like he’s got James’s damn number, and he’s biting his lip in such a fucking sexy way that James nuzzles in and tongues at his mouth, worrying at it until his teeth let go and he can suck on that bitten lip himself.

“Maybe,” he mumbles as a low, dirty beat starts up, letting his hips roll loose and savoring right up against Tyler’s ass, reaching between them to yank at his belt and the button on his jeans while Tyler leans up and kisses him just as desperate as James feels.

Tyler laughs suddenly, the sound huffing damp against James’s lips. He pauses in his impatient tug on Tyler’s jeans and underwear and opens his eyes to look down at him, smiling just because Tyler is smiling, just because he’s here and he feels so good and solid and real underneath him, just because he’s all James’s right now.

“What?”

“Did he just say ‘bring that ass to me’?” he asks, his cheeks splotched with a pink that runs all the way down his neck and disappears into his shirt. James smirks and pulls hard on Tyler’s pants until they’re around his thighs, as far down as they can go with Tyler wrapped around him like he is.

“Mm,” James says in confirmation, grabbing one of Tyler’s legs and lifting it until it’s pressed against the other one, together so he can pull his jeans off even more, getting them around his ankles with his underwear. He runs a hand down the smooth side of his thigh and around to grip his ass, most of the blue gone from his eyes as he watches Tyler’s mouth drop open in a wordless pant. “And this is one of the tamer songs.”

“My playlist is all sex songs?” Tyler’s lashes are fluttering like girls in porno, and he’s still wearing a shirt when James brings his hand down into a sharp slap-and-rub on the side of his ass, watching Tyler arch just before he slips his fingers between his cheeks to rub at his asshole, already slick with lube and softened like Tyler’s been here recently, working himself open, like James is such an easy bet.

And you’re goddamn right he is.

“These’re just love songs with a happy ending,” James replies, grinning when Tyler laughs again, his pink mouth soaking wet and puffy and staying open as James slides two fingers inside of him just to feel him, just to get into his tightness and his familiar heat now, right the fuck now.

“God,” Tyler breathes, arching up off the couch as much as he can with his legs thrown over one of James’s shoulders. He’s tugging at the waist of James’s sweatpants, pulling absently as James works him open to his own specifications, angling his fingers up like a good boyfriend and aiming for his prostate until Tyler is shivering under him, tensed and stutter-breathed, his fingers fluttering where he’s got James’s pants down, no underwear to keep him from gripping James’s sharp hipbone.

“Best pussy on the planet,” James whispers, curling his long body down so he can wrap his lips around the candy-pink tip of Tyler’s drippy cock and suck on it like Tyler’s so good at doing for him. He gets a third finger in him and really starts to fingerbang him like Tyler’s really a girl, and maybe it’s the aim or the speed or just being filled, but Tyler’s making the most beautiful sounds, these broken, unreal noises that are perfectly in sync with the steady drip of slick he’s oozing onto James’s tongue.

“J-Just fuck me,” Tyler stammers out, shivering like he’s freezing, one of his hands sliding down to shove at the front of James’s sweats to wrap around his cock, pulling it out and bumping the head of it against his taint. James groans around Tyler’s dick, lifting up off it with a dripping mouth and bliss-closed eyes as Tyler jacks him with that perfect, well-trained hand of his, making James’s balls sway with the force of it, making him hump forward and seek out that hole that his fingers are currently buried in. 

“You miss it?”

Dripping dick-flavored spit into Tyler’s open mouth as they both work to get his cock where they need it, and he doesn’t even bother pulling his fingers out when Tyler catches the head on his hole and James pushes in home, not stopping until his balls are smashed against his own knuckles and Tyler is sobbing up at the ceiling, one of his hands flying down to rub hard right under his navel like he always does, like some fucking gorgeous instinct to try and feel where James is buried inside of him.

James smiles, soft and smitten, watching from an inch away while Tyler hurts and gets tears in his eyes and fights to adjust, not doing anything but letting all that heat surround him, softer than silk and velvet and sopping wet like he’d squeezed half a bottle of slick inside in the car. He turns his head and presses a kiss to the side of Tyler’s denim-clad knee, nuzzling at it with his scruffy cheek before he kisses at his slack mouth, dirty-tonguing at it just because he’s so dick-drunk right now, he’d probably let James do anything he wanted.

“You miss me?” he asks, giving his hips a snap forward that makes Tyler jolt on the couch, the whole thing scooting an inch across the hardwood floor as a song about somebody’s million dollar pussy starts up.

Tyler nods frantically, one of his hands gripping hard at James’s bicep, his adam’s apple bobbing hard under James’s greedy mouth, and he lets his teeth drag there as gentle as he can, not wanting to leave a mark where it’s too easy to see.

They only pretend Tyler’s his.

He pulls his fingers out only so he can get into a better position, so he can force him even deeper in half until his knees are practically touching his chin and James can smell the rubber of his Converse and the laundry detergent clinging to denim and goddamnit, he wants to fucking eat him alive.

“Tell me where it hurts,” he whispers, kissing across Tyler’s burning cheek to his ear, breathing hard there while he grinds inside of him, pushed in so deep he can’t imagine being anywhere else ever again. “Tell me, Ty. Where do you need it, baby?”

Tyler hisses and strangles out a moan, nails digging into James’s arm and his thigh as he pulls him in, keeping him right where he is.

“There,” he breathes, lashes fluttering, mouth pliant as a fuckdoll, and James latches onto his bottom lip to have something to suck on while he digs his knees into the plush couch cushion and lays into him.

Lil Wayne now as he starts to put his ass into it and give it to him good, banging that hole out like he’s been craving for fucking weeks now, feeling more at home right here on this couch than he has since well before Christmas. Tyler opens up so pretty, getting all hollowed out and messy and just taking it as deep and nasty as James wants to give it to him, both of them used to fitting every one of his eight inches in by now.

They’re experts at each other at this point.

“Missed you so much,” he mumbles against his lips, taking Tyler’s needy kisses as he fucks him harder, pumping as fast as he can because he can’t stop once he’s started, not with this boy, not with this body. He knows his stroke would be better if he’d lift up, lean back and get some leverage, but so much of what makes this so goddamn good is drinking Tyler’s spit, is his hot breath on his face, is feeling the tickle of his eyelashes and listening to him gasp and try not to say James’s name and shoving their faces together bruise-hard when it starts getting close, real close. Too close.

Not yet. God, please not yet.

“Can I come?” Tyler gasps out, his dick trapped between his shoved-down jeans and his tensed belly, and they worked real hard last summer on training Tyler to come untouched. James doesn’t answer for a minute, just buckles down and fucks in hard push-lifts with his hips, nailing him where he needs it until Tyler is frantic and pawing at him, one hand squeezing at the back of his neck, their foreheads pressed together hard. 

“Please,” he whispers. Begs. God, it’s better than music. “Please, _fuck_ , lemme--”

“Get it,” James tells him, the couch groaning as it shifts slowly across the floor, bumping into the coffee table as he snaps his hips forward in deep-dicking shoves that have the head of his cock catching on Tyler’s gaped, puffed-out rim before slopping back in. “Get that dick, baby, c’mon.”

James squeezes his eyes shut and grits his teeth when Tyler comes, shaking apart on his cock in shivering pulses that feel like the very center of heaven closing in around him, cradling him so good that there’s no amount of discipline that could restrain him now. When he comes inside of him the tears return, goosebumps flying up over his whole body as his asshole pulses and his dick flexes so deep and he swears it’s a bigger load than he’s ever put in him before.

They’ve just never been apart this long. Not ever.

“Hey,” Tyler’s saying, hands on James’s face again, cheeks so hot against his soft palms, so damp. Crying. He’s fucking crying. “It’s okay. I’m right here. I’m right here-”

“Don’t leave me again,” James forces out, not the right time for his throat to be this tight, for Tyler to be wiping tears from his eyes and using every bit of his trapped strength to pull James down fully on top of him, to get them as close as they can be on this small-ass couch, with their pants shoved down and Tyler’s shirt soaked with jizz and both of them on borrowed time.

Tyler doesn’t respond, doesn’t promise anything because they both know it’ll be a lie. His dick is still pulsing inside of him, still mostly hard and will probably be ready to go again in about fifteen minutes, but he doesn’t need anything right now but the way Tyler’s kissing him, but the way he’s got his arms wrapped around James’s neck in a hug like James hadn’t thought to give him at the door, but the sudden, crashing wholeness that happens whenever they’re within range of each other.

“You’ve got me all night,” Tyler says instead, a promise he can keep. He drops a kiss to James’s mouth that ends in a smile as he rubs at the tensed muscles at the back of James’s neck, his shoulders, something so small but so stupidly sweet that it makes James’s eyes burn again. Tyler will never know the extent of the darkness he’s been in since he’d left for the holidays. James would never be able to explain it even if he said every word right and had all the time in the world.

But there’s a tightness around Tyler’s mouth, an unmistakable pain in his dark, sleepy eyes that tells James he wasn’t alone in that ache, not for a single fucking second.

“C’mon,” James says, refusing to let out the sigh that’s building in his chest. “Let’s go get you a shower and something to eat. Gotta take care of my baby now that he’s home.”

Tyler grins for the _my baby_ and James sees it, sees the joy behind the smirk, and it reminds James that Tyler’s just as fucking owned as he is.

“And we’re gonna make me a new playlist,” Tyler says a little primly, that same sass he gives when James goes for too long without licking him out. James grins as he pulls out and helps Tyler up, neither of them too concerned about the come leaking out and down Tyler’s thighs.

“That’s a million dollar pussy, baby,” James calls after him as Tyler saunters to the bedroom, leaning over to flash it at him as he pulls his jeans and shoes off. Tyler flips him off and James grins, following behind him with his fucking tail wagging.

His baby’s home.


End file.
